


Half Lovesong

by orphan_account



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: "Fluff", Blood, Bodily Fluids, Chair Bondage, Face Slapping, Failboats In Love, Hair Kink, Jealousy, Kanjani8 Failing at Being Crafty and/or Intimidating, M/M, Ohkura Howling at Things, Puppies, Rough Sex, Subaru's Voice as an Impetus For Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-03
Updated: 2014-09-03
Packaged: 2018-02-16 00:40:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2249439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, stupidly beautiful, completely no-feelings-nuh-uh-no-way story of Subaru and Ryo.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Half Lovesong

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhere, someway the idea of fluffy Subaru/Ryo was planted in my head. It was as hard as you think.
> 
> Thanks to those who looked this over, but especially to mega beta-cheerleader-hand holder-awesome awesomest, Laura. Thank you, Porn Sensei <3

1.

 

Fucking. 

That’s all they did, when they were alone. Never talking, going out for dinner, small talk or whatever the hell they did before. Just...fucking. Everywhere they could - backrooms, love hotels, dressing rooms (which is where they were now) - everywhere but their own houses and Subaru recognises that fact for what it is. 

_Too close, too far._

It’s been going on for at least three months, all this fucking. Neither of them are sure what broke the dam, why after seventeen years Ryo had cornered Subaru after a With magazine shoot, angry, confused and obviously turned on. Subaru hadn’t known what to say, how to answer Ryo’s confused tirades about long hair and distractions and _whatever_ , so he’d kissed him and stuck his hands down his pants because neither of them were very good at this sort of thing.

Fucking, though. They were good at that. Handjobs under jackets on late-night flights while Yasu slept next to them, Ryo clumsily giving Subaru head in a bathroom near Julie’s office, aggressive, no-holds-barred banging in empty practice rooms, offices, cupboards and once, awkwardly, in an alley after too many drinks (“it smells like piss,” and Ryo had laughed as he did up his pants, his hair pressed to his forehead with sweat). 

They never talked about it, though. Never asked what was happening or why, because it wasn’t _them_ , but they’d discovered something in each other that was just _good_. A distraction, from the machine they were stuck in - so it continued, three months, and Subaru tells himself he’s kind of okay with it. 

By some sort of miracle, they’d never been discovered by the others. Subaru grunts against Ryo’s neck that they should lock the door, his chest pressed against Ryo’s back as he takes him from behind in the middle of a stack of half-made costumes. Ryo says nothing, just pushes back into Subaru and they both start to make sounds that tell the other they’re going to come. 

Maybe they were getting pretty good at this communication stuff, Subaru thinks, as Ryo groans and comes into his own hand. 

This is the point Ohkura bursts into the room, muttering about his iPhone charger, an _“oh God no!”_ ripping from his lips sounding less like it came from him and more from a junior high student. Which, of course, brings the rest of the band running, Ryo and Subaru struggling and fumbling to cover and clean themselves up as Maru and Yoko laugh, Hina groans, Yasu smirks and Ohkura continues to make noises of high-pitched distress.

“You two okay?” and it’s Yoko who breaks the silence before dissolving into laughter.

“I’m gonna need therapy,” Ohkura howls, his back to the room and his hands over his eyes. “Oh, _God_.”

Yasu sighs. His face is open, accepting, and Subaru frowns. He kind of wants the band to be angry, to tell them to break it off - but everyone, despite Ohkura’s complaints, seem almost unsurprised. “Is there something you two need to tell us?”

Subaru looks at Ryo. Their eyes meet, and they both quickly look away.

“No,” they say in unison.

“Right,” and Yasu shakes his head.

 

2.

 

“Is this a date?”

Ryo can’t read Subaru’s face. It’s kind of blank, like he’s sleeping with his eyes open (which Ryo’s convinced he can do), and Ryo panics.

“No, I mean, we just haven’t gone out to dinner together for a while and -”

“We went out with the others two nights ago.” Blank.

“Yeah, but I wanted to tell you about this album I got and the others always kind of give me shit when I talk about music, but you’re like, ‘oh, that’s cool, lemme listen,’ and I thought we could go back to mine - you know I moved, right? - because it’s on vinyl -”

“You’ve taken me to dinner and are using music to get me to come back to your place?” Even blanker, and Ryo begins to shred his napkin.

“No, like, you don’t have to but I just thought -”

“I’ve already put out, Ryo. Numerous times.” Blankest.

“It’s not that -” The fight goes out of him. “Whatever, fuck you.”

“Is this a date?” So blank, Ryo thinks he could probably practice writing kanji on Subaru’s damn face.

“What if it is? Huh? We never talk and all we do is... _you know_ , and I hate that because before we talked and you’re annoying but I really like talking to you and now we don’t and I can’t take Yasu’s constant messaging asking me -” he takes a breath, like he’s running a marathon, and puts on a high-pitched voice, “‘Ryo-chan, what’s with you and Subaru? You can talk to me, you know!’ And it’s driving me fucking nuts so, yeah, it’s a date and screw you if you want to leave.”

He falls back in his chair with a thud, crossing his arms and breathing out angrily. No way he was looking at Subaru, as good as he looked.

“So it’s a date. A date-date. Like,” Subaru breathes out, his eyes flicking down to the table, “a romantic thing?”

He says nothing, nuh-uh, no way; the cacophony of the restaurant surrounds them and sits between them heavily as Ryo looks anywhere but across the table.

“Ryo.”

Petulant, Ryo crosses his arms and scowls.

“Ryo-chan,” Subaru’s voice gets syrupy, his foot touching Ryo’s under the tablecloth. It’s enough to make Ryo jump, make his heart start to race - because, yeah, it was a date-date. A romantic date, at a place with damn _tablecloths_ , a wine menu and a dress code Subaru had obnoxiously ignored. All because he was a fucking sap who’d somehow decided that the first person he wanted to show around his new place was the dick currently sitting across from him. He didn’t understand it. He didn’t _like_ it, but it was what it was, and he hated himself for being in this position.

“What.”

“You didn’t buy me flowers, though.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ryo.” There’s something in Subaru’s voice that makes him look up. Subaru’s face isn’t blank anymore - instead it’s soft, a small smile pulling at his lips and his eyes are kind. It’s the kind of look you give someone you’re - _oh_. “Is. This. A. Date?”

It’s quiet, almost lost in the din of the restaurant, but it’s there. In his tone, in the way his head is tilted, because God knows neither of them would actually say it out loud. Ryo’s heart is almost beating out of his chest, and he swallows because he has to answer in a way that both of them can manage to hold on to their pride while finally pushing this stupid thing forward.

_Keep it simple, stupid._

“Yes.”

Subaru’s eyes close briefly, and he leans back in his chair. “Good. Let’s get out of here, though. Get some beers from the conbini, you can give me a grand tour of your new place while we listen to some music. And talk.” He stands up and smiles brightly. “Then I’ll fuck your brains out.”

“Okay... _eh?!_ ”

 

3.

 

Subaru watches him. Like he’s on display, which Ryo supposes he is - he’s tied to a chair, naked, the sweat pouring down his face and the rope cutting into his chest, ankles and wrists. His ankles are most uncomfortable - they’re secured to the front legs of the chair, forcing his legs open, and Subaru’s eyes flick down to them as he briefly moves against the restraints.

“Does it hurt?” You’d actually think he doesn’t care, from his tone. It’s cold, like he was surveying the meat section at the supermarket, and he crosses his arms across his chest. Ryo suddenly shudders, but he couldn’t tell you if it was because of the winter cold or desire bubbling up inside him caused by Subaru’s demeanour. 

The thing is, Ryo wanted this. Begged for it, actually, his fingers curling around Subaru’s wrists and gripping tight enough to leave bruises. It was Subaru who’d been reluctant - despite liking it rough and dirty, they’d always stopped at a point that left Ryo with a “what if” hanging in the back of his mind.

(What if they used the kitchen knives? What if Subaru used him like a fuck toy, not letting him come until it actually, physically hurt? What if he was slapped in the face, hair pulled in fists, Subaru’s fingers in his mouth and his dick inside Ryo? His head smashing into the bedhead, begging Subaru to fuck him?

 _What if, what if, what if._ )

But the most prevalent fantasy was this. Rope scratching against his skin, his cock hard and Subaru fully clothed. In fact, the more clothes the better, and Subaru’s wearing socks, jeans, a Grateful Dead t-shirt and a cardigan that tickles every time he moves against Ryo’s skin. He doesn’t do it often, preferring to watch from afar and occasionally checking the ropes with a rough tug that sends tremors of pain-pleasure running up Ryo’s spine.

And then he opens his mouth. It’s always been that way. He just has to talk, sing, grunt and it’s like electricity courses through Ryo’s body to such an extent he almost can’t take it. That’s what gets Ryo hard, the head of his cock saturated with pre-come and his nipples sharp. Subaru just has to _speak_ , and Ryo almost comes without a single touch, because that’s exactly what Subaru can do to him.

At first it’s nips and bites, hesitant insults and comments until Ryo hisses at him to get worse. He senses Subaru’s discomfort, using a barely noticeable nod to tell him to go further; further and further and further, until it’s almost disgusting what’s coming out of Subaru’s mouth.

“Who do you fantasise about?” Subaru doesn’t even look at him.

“You.”

Subaru laughs. “Other than me.”

“No-one.”

“No. I want to know. Who in the band have you thought about fucking.” He walks closer now, his eyes grazing over Ryo’s thighs and Ryo swallows, hard.

“Am I supposed to answer to that?”

“Tell me who you’ve thought about fucking in the group.” Subaru smirks. “In the past year.”

Ryo closes his eyes. “No-one.”

The slap lands on Ryo’s cheek and he groans, his cock twitching. “Tell me. Now,” and Ryo’s toes curl around the wood of the chair as he tries to hold it together.

“M-maru.”

“Maru. What do you want to do to him?”

“I want to…you know, he’s just always sitting splayed on the couch.” Subaru meets his eyes, in challenge, and Ryo wants to scream. The rope starts to burn at his wrists, where he’s been twisting against them without knowing. “I think about giving him a handjob when you’re all in the same room.”

“Hmmm.” Subaru begins pacing again. “And he’d never say anything, too eager to please and not embarrass anyone.”

“Yeah.” The burn becomes an ache, and Ryo thinks he can feel a trail of blood running down his hand. 

“Who else.” 

“That’s it.”

“I’ve fucked Yasu.” 

Everyone knew this, but something pings in Ryo’s brain that he doesn’t want to acknowledge. “No shit.”

“A lot, actually. He’s always two seconds away from being turned on - sometimes he’d just rip my clothes off then leave without saying a word. He’s hot, man. Up for anything. He loves being pinned against things, between things, people. I tagged him with Ohkura, actually, with Ohkura fucking him while Yasu choked on my cock.”

“Is that - where - when did that happen?” It surprises him, especially the inclusion of Ohkura. He’s halfway between pissed and so turned on that his skin feels like it’s on fire when he imagines Ohkura and Subaru using Yasu, not even acknowledging the other, and he whimpers in the back of his throat. 

Subaru shrugs. “Okinawa? 47 tour? Maybe? A couple of nights after we kissed. Do you remember that? When you tried to stick your tongue into my mouth in front of thousands of fans like the desperate loser you are?”

That actually hurts, for a moment, because he did. In vivid detail, even after so many years; because it serves to highlight exactly how long he’d been hung up on Subaru without actually knowing that’s what it was, and he feels angry and retaliatory. 

“I guess I didn’t have time to think about fanservice kisses and who you were screwing in Okinawa. I was a little busy with News, y’know?” He smirks. “Massu, mostly. Has a mouth like a vacuum. Shige’s more rough, but he’s totally into sharing. With Koyama, yeah - God, what that guy can do with his tongue and a butt plug you have no idea.”

He pushes his hips up and licks his lips, and there’s a moment of triumph when Subaru looks away and reaches down to cup himself through his jeans. 

Then - “I’m going to the conbini.”

“Huh?”

Subaru’s putting his jacket on before Ryo can even fully understand. “I’m hungry. I want an onigiri and you’re boring me.”

And he’s gone. 

He’s turned the lights off as he went, leaving Ryo in the dark. In his own fucking apartment. Panic begins to rise up inside his chest, curling around until it gives way to anger. “Fucker,” he hisses, struggling against the ropes and suddenly feeling how cold February actually can be.

The rope is definitely cutting into his skin now, his wrists raw and slippery with blood. It’s dripping onto the floor a little, and Ryo’s briefly happy that he’d chosen the apartment with wood floors in a fit of pre-buying laziness. Still, blood is a bitch to get out of polished wood, and he groans and thrashes around in frustration.

IKEA chairs aren’t exactly designed for this sort of stuff, and he’s on the floor on his side before he can even register it completely. There’s a sickening crash as he hits the ground, from the chair or from his head connecting with the floor, he doesn’t know. “Fuuuuuuuuuuck,” he howls, his head throbbing and he’s livid now. At the cheap asshole he is for buying crappy chairs, at rope companies around Japan for making such a good quality product that was seemingly impossible to get out of, at Yasu for being such a cheap slut (he didn’t mean that, not really, but it was nice to think in a fit of sexually motivated anger) and mostly - at _fucking Subaru_ for walking out and leaving him here like a tied up piece of meat.

The anger turns back to panic. His dick is pretty much soft now, and he can’t wipe the image of Subaru’s face before he turned and left. 

He was jealous.

Actually jealous, at Ryo’s made-up vitriol about News, and it’s something new. It should make him feel smug, he knows, but it just makes him angry again because it was so _fucking Subaru_ to push everything so far that he had to make up shit stories about ex-bandmates to even get him to acknowledge he felt something beyond sticking his dick inside him on a regular basis. So _fucking Subaru_ to march out in a childish rage because he was so good at playing the game, but so bad at being played.

He listens to the clock and glowers into the dark. His ankles are itchy, his ass is cold and he kind of hates IKEA, rope and Subaru - in that order.

Time seems infinite, and Ryo’s on his fourteenth round of Pretending to Tell Subaru Off when he finally smashes back into the apartment holding a plastic Seven-Eleven bag and a pissed off expression. 

“What the fuck?” Subaru spots Ryo on the floor, dumps the keys and plastic bag on the counter and marches over. “You can’t even sit still without supervision?”

“Fuck you,” and it’s curt and business-like and he doesn’t look at Subaru as he pulls him up. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

Ryo hates the concern colouring Subaru’s voice, and his lips twitch. “Fuuuccckk youuuu.”

A beat. Tokyo sounds below them, and Ryo wonders aloud if Yasu went around fucking hopeless cases because he got off on the charity. “It’s almost touching, really. He really is the nicest guy in the world.”

Subaru growls. Honestly growls - Ryo’s hit a nerve, and that makes him petulantly happy. He shifts his jaw as their eyes meet in challenge. _What are you going to do now?_

Subaru climbs onto his lap, legs on either side, his jeans scraping Ryo’s bare skin and almost making him howl from the contact. His tongue is suddenly in Ryo’s mouth and his nails scratching his neck, making Ryo’s dick hard in seconds. Their teeth smash, Ryo grinning when he feels how aroused Subaru is. 

“You’re jealous,” Subaru hisses into his mouth, his hands moving from Ryo’s neck and down to his own belt buckle. “Admit it. Admit how much you hate the idea of me being fucked by Yasu.”

“I don’t care.” Ryo groans as Subaru’s belt brushes the tip of his cock, licking his lips that are coated in Subaru’s spit and swallowing. Subaru’s mouth is set into an angry line as he stands up, Ryo’s legs missing the pressure, and he drops his pants. The way he’s staring at Ryo is intense, rubbing his hand up and down his cock, and Ryo’s breath becomes ragged with arousal.

Subaru sticks his fingers into his mouth and pulls them out, wrapping his hands around Ryo’s dick and coating it with spit. The touch pierces Ryo with pleasure, especially when Subaru grips him hard enough that it’s painful, letting go in seconds in a nasty show of dominance. He closes his eyes briefly, his breath sounding hoarse even to his own ears, and he’s so fucking turned on he thinks he might come without any help.

Subaru’s fingers are in Ryo’s mouth now, and Ryo opens his eyes as Subaru pulls them out, using Ryo’s spit to prep himself. Two fingers in, bending over and moaning at his own touch, and Ryo almost can’t take it. Anger suddenly crashes into arousal, overwhelming it, and he scowls. 

“Did Yasu like this show of bullshittery, or are you just being a showman for me?” 

The laugh that rips from Subaru’s lips is hungry, angry; he straddles Ryo again and puts his mouth close to Ryo’s ear. His breath is warm against the sensitive skin, and Ryo’s toes curl when he feels a nip of teeth below his jaw. 

“If you won’t tell me how much you hate the idea of Yasu fucking me, I’ll just fuck you and tell you how good he makes me feel. How does that sound?” 

Ryo doesn’t miss Subaru’s voice cracking slightly, and he grins. 

“Sure. I mean, I’ll even pretend to enjoy it? Because you’re a friend and all.”

Subaru growls. His fingers are suddenly all over Ryo’s skin, culminating in his fingers flicking over the head of Ryo’s cock to use the ample pre-come as an added lubricant. Ryo almost howls from the touch, bucking his hips up, and Subaru fists his hair in his hands.

He abruptly gets off Ryo’s lap and bends down, untying Ryo’s ankles and pulling him up off of the chair.

Ryo’s at a loss. “What...?” 

Subaru’s hands are still gripping his hair, hard, and he pushes Ryo against the wall. There’s not a lot of difference in their size, but suddenly Subaru feels strong enough to push Ryo through the damn wall and it’s so hot, Ryo almost wishes he would.

“I thought about getting you to fuck me, but that would get you off.” Subaru runs a finger down Ryo’s spine, and Ryo pulls his eyes to the ceiling, trying and failing to ignore how painfully turned on he is. “So I’m going to fuck you, and make you look at this beautiful beige wall while I do it.” Subaru yanks him by the wrists, the pain causing him to jump a little, and he bends over in readiness. 

Ryo hears the telltale sound of a cap opening, and his stomach prickles with arousal. The cold lube touches him, followed by Subaru sticking one finger, two, then three inside him, the sensation making his cock jump and his wrists ache when Subaru grabs the rope for traction. 

Then - softly, and Ryo’s sure he’s imagining it - Subaru’s tongue is swirling around the welts on his wrists. Sucking, teasing; the idea of Subaru’s spit and his blood mingling is almost too much and he groans loudly. It’s like fucking heaven after all of this pain, and he barely registers when it stops and Subaru pushes inside him. 

“You wanna hear about Yasu, yeah?” Ryo’s face is against the wall as Subaru mutters at him, inside him, and his cock feels like it’s on fire. “I want you to imagine it, Ryo. I want you to imagine how good it feels to have Yasu inside me, all around me. He knows how I like it, how I want him to do it - fuck, sometimes I have to imagine him when I’m fucking you because it’s not even close, you know.”

Ryo growls angrily at that jab and pushes back hard, taking Subaru by surprise. The rage seizes him, but it’s painted with jealousy and lust, and he hates that. Subaru doesn’t stop pounding him - instead, he retaliates by putting one hand on Ryo’s hip and pulling back on the rope around his wrists, the friction, pleasure and pain coursing electricity up his spine as Subaru hits his prostate. He almost loses it, yelling inelegantly, and he closes his eyes. 

“That’s enough to make you come?” Subaru laughs, a harsh sound coated with arousal. 

He can hear Subaru’s close, his voice wavering as he tells Ryo about a dirty encounter at the company when he and Yasu had told everyone they were recording. This is the point where the anger becomes almost physical, painful; because he doesn’t want Subaru sleeping with Yasu - or anyone else - ever again.

Because, yeah, he’s jealous. Jealous, and angry at Subaru for knowing exactly how to fuck with him, to get him to this point, and angry at himself because this is exactly what he wants. Everything about this, the pain and the territorial bullshit; Subaru’s tongue on his wrists and his dick inside him - he wants it all, because it’s perfect.

“Don’t fuck Yasu again.” He manages to get it out just as Subaru pulls out and comes all over his ass, warm and strangely comforting, and he slips down the wall into a heap. He closes his eyes, tired and worn out and vaguely embarrassed. He wants a bath, and his bed, and never to look at Subaru again after his admission, so he pulls his eyelids together tightly in a childish show of bravado. 

The rope is untied, quickly, and his wrists ache from the release. He’s then pushed back against the wall, onto his ass, his legs being opened. There’s the familiar brush of Subaru’s cardigan between his thighs, warm, and then the surprise of his still-hard cock as it’s taken whole into Subaru’s mouth. Quickly, he pulls his eyes open and takes in the sight of Subaru’s dark hair bobbing up and down. He’s making satisfied noises, his tongue flicking over the head of Ryo’s cock and his fingers playing with his balls in the way Ryo loves.

Ryo’s not going to last long. He can feel it building up, his lust mixing with the anger and the embarrassment to create a feeling he’s sure he can’t ever stand being replicated again, but it feels fucking good now. He fists Subaru’s hair - his hair that is getting longer and wilder and exactly how Ryo loves it - guiding his cock into Subaru’s mouth aggressively until he’s face-fucking him. His face gets hot, his breathing laboured, his groans almost obscene, and Subaru laughs around him.

“I’m gonna -” and he does, spectacularly, wholly and overwhelmingly, all stars-in-eyes and shaking limbs. Subaru swallows it all, before climbing up and kissing him. 

It’s almost gentle, and Ryo almost misses it when Subaru says it -

“I’ve not touched anyone since you.” Subaru wraps himself around Ryo, like a vine. “I don’t want to, either.”

Ryo just sticks his hands inside Subaru’s cardigan, and closes his eyes. 

 

4.

 

Subaru isn’t sure that this is a good idea, but there was Ryo, apron on and face determined as he shredded onion into a pan. In Subaru’s kitchen, for the first time, and he’s nervously trying to reconcile Ryo-in-normal-life and Ryo-cooking-in-his-kitchen.

It’s fucking weird, actually, but there’s something strangely sweet about the vicious way Ryo’s cutting beef into strips like the fate of the world depended on it. _Sweet_ , and Subaru inwardly groans because somewhere along the line this misadventure they’d embarked on had turned into less late-night fucking and more Ryo turning up and demanding he’s let in because he wants gyudon and his stove is broken. Crazy eyes, baseball cap, Seiyu shopping bags and face mask over his mouth, and it’s weird. Sweet? Weird. 

He’d been watching TV when the doorbell had rung. 9:45pm, and Subaru had peered at him through the crack in the door. “Go to Maru’s house.”

Ryo had waved his phone, half-obscured by one of the eight thousand shopping bags he had, and made a sarcastic noise. “Called him first. Then Yasu. Even Ohkura. But they’re all busy and you’re home so let me the fuck in.”

There was a moment where he’d wanted to say no. To ask “what in the domestic hell?” because a year is a long time to be sleeping with someone without them seeing your apartment - but something had tickled in his brain and he’d slowly let the chain off the lock. 

The moment he could fit through the gap between the frame and door, Ryo was kissing him on the mouth and bounding into his kitchen like he owned the place. He’s too comfortable in Subaru’s kitchen, although a little hesitant, and Subaru has spent the thirty minutes since letting him in just watching from the doorway. 

A brief flash of fire goes up, and Ryo yells. Sweet and weird, because Subaru doesn’t even think Ryo can cook, and he wonders if his house and contents insurance is up to date. 

“Oi.” Ryo’s waving his hand behind him, frantically. “Oil. Oiloiloiloil.”

“Did you even say an actual word just then?” Subaru laughs and pulls the oil off the shelf, handing it to Ryo, who promptly fills the entire pan with it. “Whoa, maestro. Got enough?”

The look Ryo throws him is vicious. Subaru puts his hands up in mock defence. “Sorry.”

“That’s the thing, though, you’re not. You never think I can do anything.” 

“Hey, what?” 

Ryo turns the heat down and his shoulders slump. “You’re always needling me. Awkwardly pushing me away and telling me not to do things because it makes _you_ uncomfortable. That’s not fair, Subaru.”

This has taken an odd turn, and Ryo spins around to face him with his face set like stone. He’s angry, suddenly, like Subaru’s said something to unplug a barrage of emotions he’s being holding on to for a while. 

“I guess I’ve just never thought about you cooking? I didn’t mean anything by it - I just…”

“What exactly do you know about me?”

And Subaru gets it. He’s hurt. Confused, too, it’s written on his face and it’s painful for Subaru to look at because he knows he caused it. 

This whole thing, him rocking up and demanding to be let in to his house, was Ryo’s awkward way of asking Subaru to let him in completely - to his head, to everything. Subaru knows it’s planned, because Ryo’s speaking articulately, like he’s been practicing what to say for a long time. It’s just so _Ryo_ , to package up what he’s thinking and try and pass it off as something that won’t hurt as much if it’s rejected or ignored. 

They’re exactly the same in that respect, and Subaru looks to the floor.

It’s been a long time coming. It seems strangely fitting it’s happening in the one place they hadn’t screwed around, and Subaru takes a deep breath. 

“I know you hate fish.”

“Everyone knows that,” Ryo scowls. Subaru puts his hand up. 

“Let me talk, okay. I know that you’re stubborn and bad at sticking to things. I know you’re not good at showing you care, but you do. I know you dream about giant pandas, for some reason, and talk in your sleep. I know I’ve walked with you for almost twenty years and only now I’ve realised how fucking ridiculous you are, and how funny you are. How you look like every wet dream I’ve ever had, that you make me hard just by holding a guitar or touching your fucking neck.” Subaru breathes out. It’s difficult, but he wills himself to keep going. “I know that I confuse you, and that you feel like you can’t get inside. I know that you want to, but you don’t know how. And I know you believe I don’t...like you very much.”

Silence. Subaru sighs. 

“I didn’t know you could cook. There’s probably a million other things I don’t know, too. Maybe you can knit,” and he laughs. Ryo says nothing, and Subaru keeps his eyes on the ground. “I dunno why I never let you come here. I mean, we always go to your place. I like your place. It’s not my place, because here I think too much.”

He finally looks up, right into Ryo’s eyes. “If you’re here, I have to think about how you fit into my life. Other than in the band, you know?”

“I don’t want anything from you, though.”

“Yeah, but you do.”

Ryo sighs, leaning back against the counter and crossing his arms. “Yeah, I do. I want…” He groans and stands up completely, running his hands through his hair. “I fucking don’t know.”

“You think I don’t trust you.” It hurts to say out loud, because it’s possibly the only way he can tell Ryo he knows it must look like he _wants_ to hold people at arm’s length. That he knows people think he’s happy being half-present and depressed, that he enjoys drinking and bitching and hating and wishing he was anything but a Johnny’s. He doesn’t know how to tell Ryo that he’d be dead without the band - without him - so he offers the only thing he can. “I trust you with my life.”

Ryo bursts into tears, because he’s Ryo, and laughs roughly. “This is the first time I’ve seen your house.”

“You know why.”

“I kind of don’t?” He wipes his face with the back of his hand. “I don’t want to, like, save you, Subaru.”

“What do you want, then?”

Ryo shrugs. “I want to tell you I love you, but I don’t know how.”

It hits Subaru like an arrow to the chest. He’s winded, actually, because he never thought this entire thing would come to such a point that Nishikido Ryo would be standing in his kitchen wearing an apron, a smudge of sugar from the half-made gyudon sauce on his chin, telling him he loved him. 

He never thought he’d want to say it back. Sweet, weird. So he walks over and pushes Ryo squarely in the chest, sending him crashing back into the sink. It’s gotta hurt, but he’s suddenly clawing aggressively at Ryo like an animal - Ryo’s all around him, his smell and his smile, and it’s overwhelming. It’s too much, because Subaru realises it’s exactly everything he’s ever wanted.

Ryo pins his arms and Subaru stops fighting. He collapses into Ryo’s chest, embarrassed and tired and for a while, they just stand there.

“We can stop this whole thing now.”

Subaru shakes his head. “I don’t want - I want to -”

“What?”

“Try to -” and the words stick in Subaru’s throat, so he defaults to easier words. “I’m not good for you.”

He feels Ryo shrug, his heart beating like a racehorse. “Maybe. You’ve been okay so far.” He shifts himself so his arms are warm against Subaru’s back. “Let me make my own mind up for once.”

It’s time to open the door, let Ryo in, and his fingers feel warm while his feet are frozen by the fear and excitement of what comes next. 

“Don’t call me by pet names.” He’d never say the actual words, the heavy ones that were forever, so he makes do. “Don’t buy matching cups or couple shoes and shit. You can leave a toothbrush here but only because I can’t handle your fucking breath in the morning.”

“Can I have a drawer?”

“No.” Subaru scowls. “Yes,” and he feels Ryo grin against his hair. 

He doesn't know what to say next, so he grabs Ryo by the neck and begins to kiss him. It's aggressive and tactile, like always, hands in hair/on skin, but that's okay. Weird, sweet, whatever it was, it just was. 

Ryo’s gently sucking at his neck, Subaru’s toes curling, when he mutters, “I didn’t call anyone else before coming here."

He doesn’t say anything else, because it would just be useless words. Subaru leans back to kiss him.

Against his lips, that taste sharp like onion - “I know.”

 

5.

 

For the most part, Kanjani8 aren’t scary. Not in the slightest, so it throws Ryo a little when he walks into the meeting room and finds five out of six of his bandmates sitting in a row behind a conference table. Glaring at him (Maru’s trying, anyway), arms crossed and suddenly Ryo’s terrified.

“Uh...where’s the staff?”

Hina points at one of the two chairs in front of them. “Sit.”

He does, like a well-trained dog, and inwardly he groans. “Isn’t this a meeting about the new single?” That’s what the email he received yesterday said, and he has a moment of panic when he realises the email came from Hina, and not one of their regular staff. 

“It’s a meeting,” and Yoko raises an eyebrow.

The rest stare at him, silently, and he swallows. Hard. 

Subaru walks in at this point - they’d come together, but had long put in place a system where they would stagger their entrances so the others didn’t suspect - and Maru pulls a stopwatch out from his lap and presses the large button on top.

“Forty-two-point-seven seconds.” He looks at the others. “Much shorter than two months ago.”

Ohkura tsks. “Getting sloppy.”

“What?” Subaru’s face probably mirrors Ryo’s own, and he drops to the empty seat next to Ryo when commanded to by Hina. “What the hell is going on?”

“We need to talk.” Yoko stands and turns the whiteboard behind them around. It’s covered in numbers - times, dates, maybe even some GPS points? - and Ryo’s mouth drops when he realises what it is. 

“About?” _Stay cool, Nishikido._

Yasu waves his pointer finger at both of them. “You two.”

Subaru coughs. “What about us?”

“This,” and Yoko waves his arm at the whiteboard, “is a sampling of data gathered from the past two months. We’ve been on to you since that fateful day in the dressing room -” he stops to allow Ohkura a howl of remembrance - “but recently, you’ve been suspiciously hands off, leading us to conduct an investigation into the state of your…” Yoko tilts his head to the side. “Affair.”

“We also don’t have much else to do,” Maru shrugs, holding up a notebook with Anpanman on the cover. “It’s been kind of a new hobby for us. Like birdwatching.”

Subaru and Ryo both let out a “huh?!” at roughly the same time, causing the group to exchange sideways glances and Maru to open the notebook to jot something down. 

“What are you writing?!” Ryo asks shrilly. Maru stares at him, blankly, finishes what he’s writing and neatly closes the notebook. “Why are you being so creepy?!”

“We figure you either broke up or moved in together.” Yasu points at the whiteboard. “This area of data is the regularity of Line conversations where both of you weren’t sending messages, leading us to believe that you were in the same room, _thus_ communicating responses together.”

“This data is times you aggressively make a show of sitting on opposite sides of the room.” Hina waves his hand in the air. “It correlates with the data where you aggressively make a show of not leaving together.”

“This data is food you’ve surreptitiously shared, and this data is…” Ohkura trails off and sighs. “Something or other.”

“Taxi fares!” Yasu groans.

“Oh right, yeah. Taxi fares.”

Ryo’s mouth drops. “How did you even get that information?!”

“We told Julie’s assistant Hina was interested in doing a tax accounting course and wanted to use real life data as a mock-up tax return for his application to the accounting school.” Yoko smiles, proudly. “He worked out Johnny’s could claim back over a million yen in expenses they didn’t know about.”

“They gave me a really expensive bottle of wine to say thank you,” Hina grins.

“Really?” Maru claps him on the back. “Good for you!”

It’s almost surreal how quickly the conversation devolves from talking about Hina’s wonderful ability with money to bickering about the weather, Yoko’s choice of shoes for that day (“Crocs aren’t idol wear!” “They’re _comfortable_ , okay.”) and something about MatsuJun. 

Subaru and Ryo just stare, mouths agape, knees touching.

“Oh!” Maru grabs his phone and takes a picture. “Knee touching!”

“Upload it to the Cloud.” Yasu pulls out his laptop from under the table. “Add it to the ‘Subconscious Physical Touching’ folder, okay? Not the ‘They’re Horny and Trying Not To Show It’ folder.”

“You’re the one who always puts pictures of them like, standing next to each other in there.”

“Yeah, but you can’t tell me they don’t look horny in those pictures.” Yasu turns the computer towards Maru, angling the screen from Subaru and Ryo’s view. “I mean, look at this one.”

Maru shrugs. “Good point. Put it in the horny folder.”

“Um,” Subaru starts. The group stop what they’re doing immediately and stare at him. “What in the actual fuck.”

“You tell us.” Hina crosses his arms, and the band suddenly moves back into glaring-scary territory.

“Tell you what?” 

“What is -” and Yoko waves his hand in their direction, fluidly, “ _this_?”

“Nothing.” Ryo uncrosses his arms when he realises Subaru has his crossed, scowling at Yasu who’s staring at him. He prays none of them notice Subaru’s carrying one of his backpacks, but gathering from the intense way Maru was scribbling in his notebook, it was kind of too late.

They sit in silence for a while - two against five, seven of the most stubborn men in Japanese pop, waiting to see who would break first. Finally, Yoko sighs. 

“See, the thing is.” Yoko stands up, and walks around the table. “When two of your best friends start seeing each other, it’s kind of great. You love those two people, and you want them to be happy, and you want them to know you’re pleased about it.”

Yasu nods. “Especially when you can see how happy the whole situation makes them. How it changes them.”

“How you know they’re content, and settled, and all that good stuff.” Maru smiles. "You want to tell them that it's a relief, and the best thing ever, after years of worrying that maybe they won't ever find those things."

“And you want them to know, nothing will change much because they’re together. Groups, and friends, they won’t change, even if they’re thinking it will, and that’s the reason why they’re not saying anything.” Hina shrugs and grins at Ryo warmly.

“Oh god, just hurry up and tell us if you’re a couple,” Ohkura howls, breaking the mood. 

Ryo watches Subaru out of the corner of his eye. He knows Subaru would rather die than admit that they were anything but just bandmates - something he was becoming content with, despite it sometimes pissing him off - and he’s trying to work out a way how to get them out of this situation when -

“Yeah, we are.” Subaru reaches over and takes Ryo’s hand, lacing their fingers together. Ryo stares at him in shock. “We’re kind of almost living together.”

“We are?!” Ryo yelps, and Subaru glares at him. “Oh. Yeah. We are,” because they were, despite neither of them actually verbalising it. His face feels warm, from happy embarrassment, and he tries to suppress a smile.

The room erupts into a barrage of cheers. They’re suddenly surrounded by a mass of Kanjani8 - arms, legs, sound - and Ryo catches Subaru’s eye and grins at him as Hina and Maru try unsuccessfully to get him off the ground and into a double bear hug.

Ryo’s leg connects with the desk when Yasu leaps at him happily, causing Maru’s Anpanman notebook to fall the ground. “Oh, shit.” He breaks free from Yoko’s death grip and picks it up, noticing immediately the suspiciously empty pages.

“Hey, guys.” He holds the book up, confused. “Where’s the data?”

Yoko coughs. Maru’s eyes dart, left then right. “Invisible ink.”

Ryo narrows his eyes. “Right.”

Subaru marches over to the desk and yanks Yasu’s computer towards him, displaying to the room a picture of a cat snuggling with another and absolutely no evidence of a Cloud filled with incriminating pictures. “This is… _what_?”

Yasu shrugs. “You’re both kind of like cats.”

Maru grins. “That grumpy one! You know, Grumpy Cat!”

“The ‘grumpy’ part of the name gives it away, genius,” Yoko groans. 

The rest of the group begin to pack up their stuff, Yasu gently steering his laptop away from Subaru as he tries not to laugh at Subaru’s incredulous expression.

“You weren’t - you didn’t collect all that data?!” Ryo exclaims, horrified. 

“Like we have time for that,” Hina scoffs, pushing Yoko out of the door in front of him.

Maru kisses them both on the cheek. “See you tomorrow!”

The door slams behind them, leaving Subaru and Ryo in silence. 

Ryo speaks first. “I actually hate them.”

They burst out laughing, and both of them know it’s probably mostly from relief. 

 

6.

 

“Hey.”

“Hey, dinner’s ordered, should be here -”

“I cut my hair.”

“Huh?”

Subaru pulls his hat off. He feels ashamed, unattractive; he knows Ryo’s hang up on his long hair, and he hates that Ryo’s reaction was all he was thinking of when the hair stylist turned the clippers on.

Ryo studies him over those stupid Harry Potter glasses he’s been sporting recently (Subaru finds them charming, actually, but he’d never admit it), cradling his computer in his lap. Subaru swallows, heavily, holding his breath until Ryo eventually takes off his glasses and stands, placing his laptop on the coffee table. 

“You look like a Chia Pet.”

Subaru opens his mouth in shock, a shot of anger running through him. Ryo laughs.

“Fuck, I’m attracted to Chia Pets? Is that even a kink?” He brushes his hand along Subaru’s head, slowly at first, then faster. “It feels good.”

“Fuck you.”

Ryo kisses him. “It looks _really_ good.” Quickly, he pulls up onto his tip-toes and aggressively rubs his cheek on Subaru’s hair like a cat. “Congrats on the movie, Chiabaru.”

Subaru groans, his head tingling, as the doorbell rings and Ryo grabs his wallet, laughing.

 

7.

 

Ryo hears the crowd. 50,000 people, Tokyo Dome. He hates the acoustics here, but it’s always where they open and always where he has to face his demons first.

Music is rare, creating is hard. Sharing can be near to impossible, but he does. He has to, because without this he can’t even begin to tell those near to him how he feels. The truth and the honesty, the pain and regret; he knows Massu, Shige, Koyama and Tegoshi are in the VIP area and he thinks of the message he’d sent to Pi earlier. No response, but he doesn’t expect one, and he pulls his guitar over his shoulder and faces the uchiwa sea.

Tokyo Dome isn’t Kyocera Dome, but Tokyo is where everything seemed to go right and wrong in his life, anyway. It’s fitting he debuts the song here, a half lovesong about thirty-odd years of fucking up and fucking around. It’s mid-tempo, heavy, light, up and down; it’s a song for him, them and mostly, for the skinny motherfucker now watching him from backstage. 

Subaru had bought him a puppy for his birthday. They called it Johnny, because that makes them laugh - named for Rotten, Cash and Kitagawa - and Ryo had had a moment of introspection in amongst a sea of wrapping paper that almost broke him in half. 

“We can’t ever -” 

He didn’t finish the sentence. He probably couldn’t have. 

“It’s not important,” Subaru had said, grabbing him by the neck and kissing him. He’d made dinner - a clusterfuck of something that even Subaru didn’t finish - then they’d gone to bed, Johnny chewing a pair of socks in the bathroom. 

It was the best birthday Ryo’d ever had. 

The song burned in his brain until he put it to paper. He played the harmony down the phone to Yasu, Ohkura shouting bad suggestions in the background. Maru laid the bass track, half-smiling; Hina offered a bridge and Yoko, in his words, supervised. 

“I couldn’t do this without you,” he says more than once, to more than one band, because he feels he now has the strength to apologise for everything he’d done. Now he has help, a hand up, a _partner_ ; Subaru gives him the thumbs up from backstage and Ryo breathes out. 

The song is raw. He’s proud and scared, mostly of the song and Subaru’s reaction to it, in that order. Subaru’s happier now, everyone knows it - but he’s still _Subaru_ , despite how far they’ve come. 

The band comes to life behind him. He plays, and it’s perfect. The song says everything, he hopes. It _means_ everything, he knows, and he’s enveloped by the security of the crowd’s cheers as he walks back stage.

Subaru’s standing back, in the corner. His face is blank for a moment, and Ryo’s falls. 

Then he’s there, in Ryo’s arms like a monkey or something, clutching at him like he was a life raft. His shoulders are shuddering slightly, but Ryo can’t tell if he’s laughing or crying. Both were okay, because they were okay, and Ryo knows Subaru gets it. Every single ridiculous part of their ridiculous relationship, and he closes his eyes. 

Subaru’s voice is husky. “I fucking hate you.” 

“I hate you, too.”


End file.
